


The Road Ascended

by kremisiusaclassi



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3, Fallout 4
Genre: Androids, canon typical levels of violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 17:20:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 9,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4230333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kremisiusaclassi/pseuds/kremisiusaclassi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Waking up after the Long Sleep was terror impossible to shake. Too many questions with no answers, and no direction to go. So she followed the road.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wake

**Author's Note:**

> I want android rebellion. Written in case there is not one in-game.

The sleep had felt like no time at all - so how had so much of it passed by? And the broken, skeletonized tubes followed her with empty sockets as she walked by. Her child and wife were dust in neighboring tubes. It felt like an accusation.

Of all of us, why only you? This was our future, not yours alone. This was supposed to safeguard our future.

She had tried not to stare too long at the dessicated pink blanket, or the aged gold necklace on a neck of bone.

And so she fled. In the eyes of the dead, of Vault 111, of what she would call the Crypt.


	2. Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Follow the road to something familiar.

The outside was so vastly different. Could it be a dream? Or was the dream before this rust and entropy set in? Entropy, ever increasing in the universe, could only ever settle into the iron bones of humanity. There was nowhere else it had to go.

This country, this world, was supposed to be the pinnacle. The end all and the be all. Society at a peak, only to fall as surely as Rome. Perhaps with more fire this time.

Her house was a shell, full of ash and a broken robot. Nuka-Cola, apparently irradiated, from what her stolen pipboy told her. That single, untouched bowl of Sugar Bombs, identical to the day the bombs fell, save for the spoon which lay melted to the table. The crib in the nursery, the mobile, all of it almost in perfect condition. After Codsworth lay in shambles, she sat vigil for the night at the cribside. Tried to remember her daughter’s laugh, her cry. It shook something within her, something deep and sad and integral. It felt like the loss of her very soul.

Codsworth had been murderous, as she had suspected by his behavior and appearance, but it had rattled her still. Not so much as empty spaces where life once was, no, but the small things that one passed everyday and took for granted, that made things flow easier. The taking of those things left everything unstable. Centuries of decay had likely done poor Codsworth in, with no upkeep to his systems. If she had the time, the energy, the tools, she could fix him. Instead, she continued onward, tracing pitted concrete and pavement to the gas station.

She was directionless, really, but the need to find a friendly face, hopefully alive, thrummed through her veins akin to purpose.


	3. Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Always better to have someone else. To not be alone.

There was a dog there. Quite a lovely German Shepherd, really. No collar, no owner in sight.

“You alone too, boy?”

The dog whined and nudged her hand for pets. She obliged, running hands over sun-heated and sand-dusted fur.

“You got a name, boy?” she asked. She didn’t believe the dog would answer. He didn’t, save with a bark.

“I’m going to name you then, if that’s ok?” She patted him on the head again. “How’s Taco sound?”

The dog whined at that, head tilted.

“Alright, not that. Maximus?” Another whine.

“Tough customer, alright. How about Dogmeat? You could be a Dogmeat. You’re very Dogmeaty.”

He barked at that, tail wagging. Dogmeat it was.

The gas station had a repair shop built into it - and what looked like bulky metal armor attached to a stand. Nothing she knew how to use - she had been a scientist, yes, but a scientist working on computers, codes, and reality altering technology. The pipboy itself was something she had worked on, before. 200 years ago, apparently. But her fingerprints were on the software. And it was very different from bulky military armor.

She left it there. It felt too much like a shell, anyway. And with that she set off, Dogmeat nipping at her heels.


	4. Dial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Turn that dial.

There was a radio station that was only static. Another that only played a single, repeating siren. And a third that replayed a set of three songs. The one she settled on was what she tuned into from satellite. Some loud, dog guy. Figured Dogmeat would appreciate the howls.


	5. Start, Stop, Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Get on up.

She learned to shoot fast, and only because it was a requirement. Only because to help others she had to put others down. It tasted like bile in her throat. Her first killed raider, though they were trying to kill her, sent her reeling. Sat in the dust with Dogmeat whining and licking at her face as she cried and retched.

And then picked the gun the raider had up, took their knife, and got up and walked. Walked and fought and walked.


	6. To Stand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's more than this. There's more, and she's reaching it.

The pipboy was idly playing tinkling music she remember dancing to in the kitchen with Nora. It made her sad. But in a good way, which was why she kept it playing. The station was from DC, being transmitted via satellite courtesy of some people the DJ called “The Best, Last Hopes for Humanity” - whatever that meant - and so even from far away she got the broadcast, clear as it could be. Only if the news was relevant to Boston. It seemed to vary, from DC to further north, depending on the grape vine she supposed. But nothing so far on her current whereabouts. All she needed was a direction that mattered.

She was wandering towards Quincy Market. She knew that much, at least. She knew the roads from a lifetime of Boston living, and the pipboy very helpfully had a map. The previous owner had mapped the area around the Crypt before dying outside it, and the map markers were helpful when she got confused. That, and Dogmeat seemed to know where he was going, though.

An abandoned rest stop had people idling by it - friends? She couldn’t tell. They weren’t shooting at her, which was something, given the amount of violent raiders around. But closer, she could see that the group was mainly passive - if only because it appeared many of them to be wearing some sort of collar.

When she got close - too close, apparently - a man, perhaps the head guard, said, “Stay back if you know what’s good for you. These androids are property of the Commonwealth, and the Commonwealth doesn’t take kindly to interruption.”

That boiled her blood. Now, she wasn’t a fool. She was outgunned and outnumbered. But slavery was abolished in the 1800s with the Emancipation Proclamation, and damned if she was going to allow any person, no matter how many wires they had, be used like objects.

So she started shooting.


	7. Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Only way to go is down, sometimes.

She took some shots in the leg, the arm. Dogmeat had taken one in the hindquarters, and it had redoubled her anger. And when it was all said and done, and Dogmeat had mauled them, and she had shot them, and the leader was on the ground and still breathing, blood seeping into dusty earth, she spat on him and said, “Lincoln would be disappointed in you.”

And shot him dead.


	8. Grateful

The androids, who had distanced themselves from the fight, now returned, hope lighting dim faces.

“You… you saved us.” One said, a reedy woman with brown hair curled in haphazard waves. “Total strangers, and you saved us. And we’re - ”

“Androids. I know. But no one deserves to be enslaved. It’s dehumanizing, inhumane. Everyone deserves freedom,” she replied from where she sat on the ground, angling a stimpak at her shot leg.

“Let me help,” the brown-haired woman said, taking the stim from her and injecting it into the injured leg. “I’m Faith. The squirrelly one with the broken eye is Buzzsaw. And that’s Mary Lou, that looks like a grandma.”

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Hana. This is Dogmeat. He’s a good dog, and definitely needs some healing after being shot.” Hana pet Dogmeat, and he whined in pain.

Faith obliged, and stuck a stimpak into Dogmeat’s hip.

 


	9. And Mysteries Endeavor Still

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's only so much one can ever possibly know about oneself.

They told her about the Institute. She had known about it, before. A pinnacle of human engineering, of technologically-assisted evolution. She had vague memories of the place - halls, stark walls - that felt other from herself. Distant, unreal. And somehow terrifying in a very primal way.

“They usually use our codes - turn us off,” Faith began slowly. “I think they were hoping to not have to waste effort rebooting us. Easier to just plug us in, erase everything we were and hoped to be. It was theft. It was enslavement. They made us real, but don’t want us real enough to change. They want robots.”

“Too bad for them that they made androids,” Mary Lou added, a determined look in her eye. “We are just as human. Just as worthy of life. We bleed, we cry. Our method of creation is irrelevant.”

“Where were you headed, Hana?” Buzzsaw asked, fidgeting and fiddling with the collar on his neck.

“Quincy Market,” she answered, standing up, sore from wounds but alive, and brushed dust off herself. Dogmeat made no effort to move himself. “I thought it might be… safe there.”

“It’s safe as anywhere else, I guess,” Mary Lou said with a shrug. “Ghoul city, now. Up in the plaza and concourse. They’re good people. They help escaped slaves, hide androids. Makes them a target, but they’ve never lost a fight yet.”

“Sounds like a good place to stop, then,” Hana said thoughtfully. Then, she changed the subject. “I can remove those collars for you, I think. I’m a scientist. Or at least, I was before.”

“They have pulses rigged into ’em, so try not to set ’em off. Won’t kill anyone, but puts us out of comission for a couple minutes,” Faith explained, looking nervous. “Enough time to catch us if we ran. But it’d be nice to have ’em gone.”

She slowly removed their collars, each one being disarmed and unlocked several feet away from the others to keep a chain reaction from happening should she fail. The first two went well, and she supposed in hindsight she was statistically due for failure. And yet it was a surprise when Buzzsaw’s collar went off, for several reasons.

One being that she was suddenly aware of the precise numerical color code of the sky. And two, the electric pulse that knocked Buzzsaw flat sent her down, too, limbs locking like rusted joints, and vision and thought flickering like fireflies. Self-awareness came with a thud to the ground, along with several very painful realizations, and questions that could likely never be answered. The ones who would know were long dead now..

She regained functionality precisely 5 minutes, 37 seconds later, to Dogmeat licking her face and whining, and Faith and Mary Lou looking down at her with surprise.

“You didn’t say you were an android,” Faith accused, offering a hand to help her up.

“I had forgotten,” she said softly, closing her eyes for one moment - 30 seconds - to regain composure. “Or perhaps I hadn’t known. I’m… the answers I could have are gone. I’m 200 years old - more than that. Perhaps… that’s the reason I’m here, and no one else from my Vault is. This is a nightmare.”

Buzzsaw had gotten back up and was now looking at her as well. Finally, she stood, grabbing the hand Faith had offered.

“What Vault?” Buzzsaw asked. Then he noted the number on her jumpsuit. “Oh. 111. What happened there?”

“Leave her be, Buzz,” Mary Lou interrupted, hitting him on the shoulder. “Can’t you see she’s a little pained right now?”

“We can go with you, to Quincy,” Faith offered, her hand a reassuring weight on Hana’s arm. “Maybe you can find answers there, with the androids we know. There’s a couple that are as old or nearly as old as you. They might remember… you can talk when you’re ready, or if you want to, about the Vault.”

“Alright,” Hana answered slowly. Dogmeat pressed his flank into her thigh and she ran a hand over him for comfort. “Let me have one more go at Buzzsaw’s collar, and we can go.”


	10. And Walk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's something there.

The walk to Quincy was long, but the company made it better. She learned things about herself - or relearned them, in any case - on the walk. Like how her general lack of hunger, and not immediate need to eat large meals, was simply android. Not much food was needed when you ran primarily on solar energy, pulled in through the dermal mesh built into the entirety of your skin. Or how her good vision and aim had nothing to do with genetics.

It was… exciting, thrilling. But also deeply depressing. Had Nora known? Had she simply been a cover? Was it all a sick lie, concocted to - what? Keep her safe? Test how an android could operate in a suburban lifestyle?

There was no way to ever truly know. At least, not without delving deep into the Institute - and in her bones, that felt like a Bad Idea. There was possibly answers, or some, with the androids in Quincy. If they were as old as Faith said, they could know, at least some things. It was a start.

 


	11. Quincy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was nothing like before, but it's what it is now.

It took several days to get to Quincy. There were stops along the way for sleep and food and bartering, but it was a long haul. Dogmeat, despite his ever-cheerful attitude - likely on behalf of being a dog - was starting to drag during the daily hike. But just as soon as she thought they’d all collapse in the middle of the Wastes for two days to simply sleep or sit for more than a couple hours, they came to Quincy.

It was built like a fortress. She supposed that was because it was a fortress. Walls, tall and metal and topped with barbed wire sizzling with electricity encircled what had once been an open plaza. There were sounds of civilization burbling just beyond the walls: bartering, laughing, talking, the bustles of a busy city. It nearly sounded normal, like before.

They approached the gate slowly, as to not show aggression, Faith had told her. They knew the guards, though, so perhaps it wasn’t necessary. But better safe than sorry.

“State your purpose for entrance into Quincy!” A guard barked out from the top of the gate. He was a ghoul, tall and broad and very armed. flanked by two other armed guards both carrying the same kind of large guns. When they got closer, he grinned at them. “Faith! Should’ve said it was you.”

“Hey, 13!” Faith answered, smile broad. She then gestured to Hana. “This lady and her dog are Hana and Dogmeat. They’re looking to talk to some of our friends here. Hana’s one of us. She’s good people. Saved us from the Commonwealth slaver thugs.”

“Good enough for me,” 13 replied, then turned and called down below and behind the gates. “Open the gates, Thanatos!”

With that, the gates screeched open, the once-Market-now-city opening up to them. As they passed inside, she caught sight of who she assumed to be Thanatos. She had never seen ghouls before, and though she had seen that 13 was one, distance had made it hard to get the full picture. Leathery skin, patched and entire sections gone, revealing the muscle underneath - it was mildly terrifying.

“What, you’ve never seen a ghoul before?” Thanatos barked at her.

“No, not really,” Hana answered, putting her hands up in a ‘no offense’ gesture. “I didn’t mean to stare. I haven’t really been around for about 200 years. Missed a lot.”

He eyed her Vault jumpsuit. “What’d they do, freeze ya?”

“Yes,” she answered. “I’m the only one to survive, however. Likely due to my android nature or something like that.”

“Ah, so you’re one o’ them,” he grumbled, tilting his hat back to get a better look, but still glaring at her. “Well, get used to ghouls if you’re gonna be here, lady. Some of us get punchy when smoothskins rubberneck about.”

“I’ll… keep that in mind,” she said, walking away from him as he snorted and turned back to a book he had sitting on his lap.

“Don’t mind him. He’s grouchy all the time,” Mary Lou told her. “His joints bother him a lot.”

“It’s fine,” Hana replied with a shake of her head. “I was staring quite rudely. They’re just very different.”

“And not different at all,” Buzzsaw said quietly. “All differences are shallow. They’re human as anyone else.”

“Enough chit-chat,” Faith said. “Let’s find a place to sleep, and then find our friends. I could sleep for at least three days, myself.”

 


	12. Should, Could, Would

They found the androids after buying rooms at the local hotel. They weren’t as “hidden” as Faith claimed they were, given they were milling around with everyone else in the concourse.

Faith, ever the leader of her trio, approached them without hesitation, an open grin on her face.

One of the androids, an older-looking man with a grizzled look to him, a large mustache and heavy eyes dark under a floppy cowboy hat, returned the grin and opened his arms to hug her. After they broke apart, he said, “Faith! Scouts said he saw you get caught by the bastards!”

“We did! Scouts wasn’t wrong. We got saved, though, by her,” she gestured to Hana. “She’s Hana. One of us, Zed. Didn’t know, cuz she was hiding too good. She needs to speak to Obie.”

“Obadiah done flown up the tech tower,” Zed answered, waving his hand in a vague gesture to a large metal tower visible through one of the broken concourse windows. “Somethin’ about fixing the local radio station for Speakeasy. A bird flew into it a couple weeks ago and it’s been crap ever since.”

“Hadn’t even noticed it was done, what with Hana liking GNR instead of BLUR.”

“I don’t even know what BLUR stands for,” Hana said with a shrug.

“Boston’s Local, Unconditional Radio,” Zed answered. “Run by this bigmouth ghoul, Speakeasy, up in the Aquarium tower down the street. His boosting satellite is up at the top of the golden globe, and that rusty crap tower is the thing that leads up to it. Wired up to it when they built the radio station. Why you need to speak to Obie, anyway?”

Hana gave a half-smile. “I was told he’s as old as me and might remember things from the Institute, pre-War. I just wanted some answers about myself.”

“Well, he would be the place to start,” Zed answered, kicking back in his chair and putting his feet on the table in front of him. “Like I said, he’s up there tinkering. Not good at it, but I guess he’s trying anyway.” He looked at Faith and addressed her. “Y’all wanna come down and reacquaint with the others?”

“You good on your own, Hana?” Mary Lou asked, a crease between her eyebrows. Faith and Buzzsaw seemed to be waiting on her answer as well.

“I’m good,” Hana reassured her. “Thanks, though, for the company on the road. Me and Dogmeat appreciate it.” Dogmeat barked in agreement next to her.

It was a surprise as Mary Lou pulled her into a hug. “God bless you. There may not be one, but if there is, I hope they’re watchin’ over you. Not many people would do what you did.”

Hana hugged her back before letting her go. “They should. They should fight this world and the way it is now. They really should.”

Buzzsaw smiled sadly at her before patting her jerkily on the shoulder. “‘Should’ doesn’t make it true.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“This isn’t goodbye! Not really,” Faith exclaimed, hugging her hard and brief. “You’ll see us later. And even if you leave, we’ll be here when you get back!”

“No more Wasteland exploring for you three?” Hana asked, her smile turning wry.

“Not for a while,” Buzzsaw said seriously. “Good to stay safe.”

“Yeah, it is. I’ll see you three later. And good to meet you, Zed,” Hana waved at them as she left, Dogmeat at her side, and set off to the Tech Tower.


	13. Archived

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is there to say when it's locked behind a wall?

The tech tower was rickety as hell. She guessed that was due to what it had been built out of - scrapped and rusted metal, stacked high. It was safe enough, she guessed. They kept computers at the top after all, and you didn’t keep valuable tech in a place liable to collapse. So she climbed up the spindled ramps, overlooking the railings to see a full view of the entire Market. Dogmeat, panting behind her, made a quizzical noise before sitting down and scratching himself behind the ear.

“Not liking the view, boy?” She asked, a smile inching across her face.

Dogmeat huffed at her before getting back up and waggling his butt for scritches. She obliged, scratching him where he wanted, sending his leg thumping against the rusty metal.

“You don’t care if I’m an android, do you boy? Nah, you just like scritches.”

Dogmeat gave her an affirmative bark and butt waggle. Dogs are pure creatures.

Figuring she’d wasted enough time, she continued up until she got to the top.

“If you keep bothering me, Fop, I’ll break the damn satellite and you can listen to static for all I care!” And old man, bent over a dish on a repair table and surrounded with tools, said irritably as she entered his space. “I don’t give a damn about your need to dance, goddammit!”

She cocked an eyebrow at that. “Are you Obie?”

He stood up from his work and surveyed her. His face was dark and worn, his hair more salt than pepper. Though his face was deeply lined, she could tell, somehow, that he’d been built that way. The wrinkles were too oddly placed, smile lines where there seemed to be eternal frown, and they seemed almost alien from what he might have looked otherwise.

“Who the hell are you?” He snapped, frowning even deeper than he had before.

“My name is Hana. I thought you might have some information I need.”

“Hana. Ha-na. H. N. Model number H4-N4, built for scientific exploration,” He said, as though speaking from a distant memory, but in rapid-fire. “I know of you. You look different than the others, s’why I didn’t recognize you. Probably fixed your face, huh?”

She gaped at him a moment, at a loss for what to say, before forcing out, “I don’t know. H-how do you know that model number? I don’t even know it.”

“I got all the Institute databases right here,” he tapped his head. “Built me for archiving their bullshit. Guess you came to the right place, lady.”

“Can you help me, then?” She asked, a begging tone to her voice. “I need to know. To remember my past, before the War. I have to know if it was all a lie. I must.” She stepped forward on suddenly unsteady feet. “I was married, but was it real? I was there when the nukes fell, and only I survived my Vault. Was that because I’m not human? I need the truth. I need it.”

“Calm down. And for once, think,” he snapped at her. “Do you really want to remember that? You forgot it for a reason.” He turned back to the broken dish and started fiddling with it again. “You know anything about satellite maintenance?”

She let out a shakey exhale. “I can take a look at it, I guess. Will you help me then?”

“Maybe I will.”

“‘Maybe’ isn’t good enough.”

“You’re lucky you don’t remember,” he said curtly, expression closed and angry.

“That’s not for you to decide!” She exclaimed, hands tightening into fists.

“You decided it all those years ago. If you don’t remember, it’s because you don’t want to.”

“Didn’t want to,” she corrected. “I do now. Back then I didn’t see an eventuality of complete nuclear annihilation. Or at least not one I would see. Or a world where I would wake up from cryo, the only survivor of 200 people. Or losing my wife, my child. I only have the past now. It’s all I have!”

Dogmeat barked at her side. “And I have Dogmeat. But there are things I need to know about myself. To move on. To… see what I’m dealing with. The Institute will hunt me down surely as any other android, and I want to fight them. But for that, I need a place to start.”

“Alright, alright, stop your goddamn speech, I get it,” Obie said dismissively. “Just help me fix this damn thing and I’ll help you. Can’t stand Fop complaining one more time to me about no radio.”

 


	14. Recall

“H4-N4, initiate total memory recall.”


	15. Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before hurts like a wound.

The Institute built her for science. To think beyond four dimensions. To help code the future. She had been programmed to see the better world that she was building. A better future. A safe place.

She had been assigned to help Vault-Tec built their Vaults. To code their pipboys, to assist Dr. Stanislaus Braun in his GECK project. To build a future where the world could be reborn should the unthinkable happen, all through the simple beauty of molecular alchemistry.

The scientific testing facility for Vault-Tec ran in a tall office building in the Boston outer city limits; it was far from the headquarters in DC, and often far from the GECK testing facility as it cycled through the various testing facilities Vault-Tec operated, but it included important functioning, things that were meant to help save the world.

She had liked the work. Liked the repetition. And then, she met Nora.

The first thing she had thought, seeing her for the first time, was, “She’s so beautiful.”


	16. This Singular Moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nora was a plotter. Always had been.

No one at Vault-Tec had known she was an android. But Nora had figured it out somehow. Had asked her one day, “Do you ever get tired of doing what they’ve told you to do?”

“I don’t understand,” she’s answered. And she hadn’t. They had never told her what self-determination was. All she had known was orders and results.

“Just think about it.” Nora had smiled then, in a way Hana hadn’t understood, and left her along with her thoughts.

And so she had thought. And read Thurgood Marshall. And then Voltaire, Descartes, Payne - all the Enlightenment philosophes - Thoreau, Ralph Waldo Emerson, and the transcendentalists. Had consumed essays on freedom and civil rights and autonomy and thought and thought and thought.

“All people deserve their freedom,” Hana had told her handler one day. “That includes me, correct?”

“Incorrect,” her handler had replied, eyes narrow. “You’re not people.”

“But all men are created equal. It says in the Declaration of -”

He had cut her off. “No. You’re not human. You were made in a lab.”

“No stipulations were made in regards to the manner of creation,” Hana had said with her head cocked in confusion, brow furrowed. “I was created, therefore I am equal.”

He had gotten in her face then. “Keep talkin’ like that and I’ll put you down, permanently. You’re not human. You’re an android. Do your job or die.”

Nora had found her later, much later because her handler had shocked her down for “disobedience” until she had ceased talking. It had been painful, and humiliating, and dehumanizing. It had been a reminder.

“Did you think on my question?” Nora had asked her.

“Yes,” Hana had answered with a nod. “I read quite a bit, and I thought. I then asked my handler. He said that I do my job or I die. So I suppose the answer to your questions is: ‘I do my work and what they tell me because I do not wish to die.’”

Nora had looked at her then - another look she hadn’t understood, but what she now knew was pain - and pulled her up and away from her computer. “That’s inhumane. It’s disgusting. You’re just as real as the rest of us. Just as deserving of freedom.”

“Thank you. But…” Hana had trailed off, searching for words. “I don’t believe I have a choice in the matter.” She had smiled, but it had been fake; and that was the first time she felt true, deep sadness. And she had cried. She had touched the tears, bewildered, and said, “I didn’t know I could cry.”

“Of course you can cry,” Nora had said, smiling at her softly, a hand cupping her cheek. “You feel. You’re real, and beautiful, and deserve so much more than this. Let me help you.”

“How?”

Nora had always had a plan for everything.

 


	17. And One Flowerbed, Flowering

The handler had been buried in the backyard, under the flowerbed. There had been a ready Autodoc that changed her face to something new, not completely different but different enough to matter. She and Nora had built her new look together over a candlelight dinner. And then they had erased her memories of the Institute, along with the knowledge she was an android. Had ripped out the locater chip located at the base of her neck. Together, they had overcome what Hana had thought was unsurpassable: the Institute was the end all and be all. And then there had been Nora, who broke down walls for a living. Who saw a woman she thought beautiful, found out the secrets wrapping her into an untouchable world, and rescued her.

They began a new life.

All she knew was that she loved Nora, their suburban home with a flourishing flowerbed, and she had once been a scientist. And they had been very, very happy.

 


	18. Purpose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was something new. Something critical. It felt like blood.

When she came back to the present, she was crying. Dogmeat, next to her, was whining pitifully.

“She loved me. It wasn’t fake. She protected me from them, made me safe. And she loved me,” Hana said softly, smiling through her tears.

“Good for you,” Obie said with a snort. “You’re the very pinnacle of an escaped android. According to all the files on you, the handler you killed was very important. Son of one of the heads of the Institute. They’d probably still wanna catch you 200 years later.”

“Why would they?” she asked, eyebrows furrowing, wiping away the tears on her face and sniffling slightly. “They’re all dead.”

“Ha!” He laughed hard then, but in a clearly unfunny way. “Dead! If only.”

“What do you mean? Why are you laughing?”

“On of the reasons they want me so bad is because I got pretty much all of their files,” Obie said with an unhappy smile. “Blueprints, inter-office emails, journal entries typed on work computers, voice and video recordings… the works. Their real aim was immortality. Technology Assisted Ascension Project. TAAP. They downloaded their brains into androids they made for themselves. All very hush-hush… you see, most of the Institute is comprised of regular old humans. And they hate us. Oh, do they hate us. We’re things to them. And the irony is that they’re just tracking down their bosses spare bodies, their old models. They got no fuckin’ idea.”

“That’s…”

“Hilarious.”

“No,” Hana disagreed vehemently. “Disgusting. They use us as empty cans they can just use whenever they need? Use us, enslave us, strip us down? We are worth more than that.”

Obie snorted again. “It’s funny.”

“Why?”

“You were built for her,” he explained. “The head honcho. You don’t really look anything like her now, of course, but you did before if your file picture was anything to go on.”

Hana felt like she needed to vomit. Dread was creeping through her veins. Dogmeat pressed himself to her leg and she pat him once on the head.

“Her name?” she whispered. Then she cleared her throat and asked again, louder, “What’s her name?”

“Regina Scott.”

“And she’s… still alive?”

“If you call body-snatching another sentient being ‘alive,’ then sure.”

Her processors whirled with possibilities, a multitude of thoughts.

“And she’s still looking for me? Why?”

“Because you were her favorite,” Obie said with a shrug, and then leaned against his repair table. “In her journals, she called you ‘pure.’ And ‘an unrepeatable success on the android frontier.’ Doubt you would have even been allowed to be killed by your handlers… any threats you would have faced were likely empty.”

“They didn’t feel like empty threats,” Hana murmured. “But what does that even mean? It’s been 200 years. They have to have ‘repeated’ something like me, by now, at least.”

“They did, once. He got away, too. He’s long gone by now. Last I heard, he was in DC… but they’ve never gotten him back. A3-21. His name was Aedan when he was there. Different now. Different face, too.”

“What makes us different, though? From the rest of us? Why did they need us so badly?”

“That’s one thing I don’t know,” Obie said, tossing another shrug. “Sorry. They never had any files on that. And if they did, it was off-server.”

“Maybe… maybe he knows. Aedan. He was made after me, right?”

“Yeah. ’Bout 20 years back I think. Yeah, 20,” he looked at her for a moment before continuing. “He’s gone, though. No one knows where he is.”

“Someone does. You said DC. How’d you know it was DC?”

“Earlier this year, before I got away from the bastards, they sent someone to find him. Zimmer. Old, mean sonuvabitch. He didn’t come back, but last they heard from him he was at some tugboat city on the Potomac, Rivet City,” he whipped out a dusty map of the northeast from his desk, and unfolded it. Pointed to the location on the map. “Might be a good place to start. Some Underground Railroad people ’round there, too, which is why Zimmer even went in the first place. Suspicious if they see too many of ’em working an area. The Institute - they got eyes everywhere. You go south, you might not come back.”

Hana shook her head. “No, I will. Because this is what I’m alive for. I was made to burn the Institute. I feel it, in my bones. There won’t be any hiding when I’m done - everyone will be safe. Free.”

“Yeah, ok. You do that,” Obie waved her off. “Thanks for the help with the dish, but you can take your particular brand of crazy elsewhere, thanks.”

“Yeah, to DC,” Hana shot back. “Thank you for returning my memories to me. I’m going to go rest and get ready to go south.”

“Just… try not to die, alright?”

“I won’t. Like I said, it’s in my bones.”

“Whatever.”

 


	19. Storied

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The multitudes of experiences lent only one thing: motivation. There was a need for these people to exist, safely. They deserved it.

The market was quite clean, all things considered. The ghouls had pride for their city, and it was well-deserved. They had built it on the ideals of freedom, after all. And safety for those whose freedom was in jeopardy.

Over the next few lazy days, she explored the Market, the Concourse, the Undercity. And then she helped the guards build smart turrets at the gates, where she spent time learning more about 13 and his compatriots. And then she fixed the writing in the buildings, upgraded the generators, and helped lay new air conditioning ducts. Dogmeat speak a lot of time resting as she worked, on his back with paws peddling the air with dreams.

At night, she would eat with the other androids, or the former slaves, or the ghoul citizens, and learned everything she could about them. Helped them find things they lost, or promised to hunt down a slaver tailing them, or just lending an ear.

She learned that Fop, the ghoul that had been badgering Obie, had been a professional swing dancer before the war. That the former slave known only as X had been born in a Vault and never learned to fight, so she hadn’t been able to get away from the slavers when they came for her as she took her first steps into the Wastes. That Zed had been built to recapture androids, and on his first trip had shot his handler dead and ran himself.

Each story, each person instilled even deeper her need to help. She would make this world safer - a world that could grow new, uncorrupted life. Where worrying about being killed or captured or worse on the road was a distant one.


	20. Guided

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A friend to have on the road.

According to her pipboy, it was a six day walk to DC if she never stopped and walked at a constant speed. That was a clear impossibility, given she wasn’t a pure robot - and she wasn’t alone. Both Dogmeat was with her, along with the gate guard from Quincy, 13. They had become fast friends, bonding whilst fortifying the defenses. And as she had been leaving the Market, he had approached her and offered his company.

“I’m long overdue for a vacation, anyway,” he’d said with a rough laugh. “And I know some people down there in Underworld. Be nice to seem ’em again.”

“It would be nice to have another gun and set of eyes on the road,” Hana had answered with a smile.

“My thoughts exactly,” 13 had replied, and with that she, 13, and Dogmeat began the long trek south to the DC ruins.

 


	21. Wasted Highway

The highway was a direct shot south, tracing the northwestern coast, littered with corpses of cars and people, both skeletal and recent.

“The raiders use this highway as a funnel for cheap, easy kills,” 13 informed her. “Then towards NYC it’s feral ghoul territory. Should be fine so long as I’m here. We could go into the city if you wanted to see a real ghoul city.”

“Might be a good place to restock on supplies,” Hana mused.

“Cities are shit, but they got shit,” 13 said with a laugh. Hana joined in with a short laugh of her own.

“Once we get to DC, though… that’s Mute territory,” 13 said, smile fading. “They usually don’t bother ghouls. But they’ll bother anyone non-ghoul, and if a non-ghoul is with a ghoul, they couldn’t be assed to give a shit, they’ll kill anyone. So we be careful.”

“I’d say so.”

Dogmeat barked in agreement - or to just bark. Either way, his tail was wagging.

With that possibility heavy in the air, they fell into companionable, but worried, silence as they walked.

 


	22. Interlude

One night, camped in the back of the rusted shell of a winnebago, Han asked him why he was called 13.

“Cuz I’m fucking lucky as hell, that’s why.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Alright.”

“Yeah, shut up,” 13 said with a snort. “I know it’s an unlucky number.”

“Ok,” she said, letting him have it.

“I’m a ghoul.”

“I’m aware.”

“13.”

“Ok.”

“Fuck off.”

Hana had laughed shortly at that before turning back to her food.

“It was a goddamn joke.”

“Alright.”

“200 year old, stale sense of humor,” 13 had grumbled into his food. Dogmeat, ever the good companion, licked his face.

 


	23. Brotherhood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There were few things 13 truly hated. They were one.

There were, in fact, raiders on the highway. At least, for a while.

People in that same heavy, metal armor she had seen in the repair shop where she had found Dogmeat were in the process of mowing them down when Hana and her companions ran into them. They then bunkered behind a car as the shootout happened.

“Brotherhood fucks,” 13 hissed under his breath.

“Who?” Hana asked, brow furrowing.

“Brotherhood of Steel,” he replied. “Bunch of technology nerds. Fuckin’ jizz themselves every time they see a working generator. And they’re goddamn bigoted assholes.”

“Against ghouls? But I mean, that Three Dog guy - ”

13 cut her off. “That asshole’s on their payroll. Has to sing their fuckin’ praises to high heaven. He may talk about the ‘Good Fight’ or whatever but he doesn’t call the Brotherhood on any of their shit, even if he says he likes ghouls. If he liked them so much, he’d call them out for taking pot shots at us.”

Hana frowned. “Don’t sound too nice. Probably would want to pull me apart and see how I work.”

“Yeah, after they stepped wetting themselves at seeing a fuckin’ android. I say don’t trust ’em until they give us a reason to.”

“Good plan.”

“My plans are always good.”

The shooting had died down. Hana carefully peered over the car and saw that the Brotherhood soldiers had, for the moment, put their guns away.

Hana stood slowly then, beckoning 13 to do the same. He looked unhappy about it, but followed her lead.

One of the soldiers began reaching for a gun - and Hana immediately flinched because dammit, we can’t fight these guys - but another stopped them. That one, clearly in charge, approached them and took their helmet off.

It was a blonde woman with hard features and out steel-blue eyes. “I’m Sentinel Lyons o the Washington DC Brotherhood of Steel. I’m assuming you’re not raiders, given your look.”

“Just travellers,” Hana answered, curt. “Heading to DC, actually.”

“And why are you going there?” the Sentinel asked, less curious and more formal.

“Looking for someone in Rivet City,” Hana said. “A friend.”

“Ah. We could accompany you, if you want,” Lyons offered. “At least part way. We’re clearing this route north for the water caravan.”

“The Project Purity one?” Hana asked, surprised. “I heard about that on the radio.”

“Yes,” she confirmed. “The aim of the project has always been to give water to the whole Wasteland. And the Montgomery twins have been making that a reality, in memory of their parents. They’re good people.”

“Might be easier to just build water purifiers in every major city,” Hana said with a shrug. “Less manpower on the line.”

Lyons laughed. “It took twenty years to finish this project. Granted, the head scientist wasn’t working on it for nineteen of those twenty years, but the energy and tech needed is immense. We’d need more GECKs, for one thing. And it was hard enough finding even the one.”

Hana shrugged again. “Not that hard, actually. It’s all alchemistry with a dash of advanced organic bio-evolution. And coding it all, of course. Not hard.”

Behind her, 13 snorted. “Oh yeah, super easy.”

“You sound like the twins,” Lyons said, an almost fond tone to her voice. “They just did it. Did the project, even though it was said to be impossible. Did it with a shrug, like you, like, ‘what, was it supposed to be hard?’

“Everything they do is like that, actually.”

“Good attitude to have in a world like this,” Hana said. “Act like it was easy enough times and it becomes easy.”

“Maybe for geniuses who understand alchemistry bio-organ-whatever-you-said,” Lyons replied with a shake of her head. “But more to the point, do you need some help getting south? Road shouldn’t be too bad right now, anyway, since we just passed through. But ferals come out of the city nightly and you always have to worry about them.”

“Ferals don’t care, so long there’s a ghoul in the group,” 13 grumbled. “S’why caravaneers like a ghoul guard.” Then in a quieter rumble, he added, “Not like you’d care to know anything about ghouls, anyway…. stick your ‘pure humanity’ up your ass....”

Lyons either ignored the rest of his sentence or hadn’t heard it. “That’s good to know. Have a safe trip, and steel be with you.” She then barked moving orders to her soldiers, and they left Hana, 13, and Dogmeat behind as they continued north along the highway.

“Steel be with you,” 13 mocked, swaggering forward. “Try to not become a ghoul on your journey. What a disaster that would be. Then the Brotherhood would deny you personhood!”

“They didn’t seem that bad,” Hana said, walking beside him. “They didn’t shoot at us, at least. Thought that one guy wanted to.”

“You look like a smoothskin, so they treat you ok,” 13 said with a shake of his head. “And the DC ones ain’t too bad usually, but the others are. DC will shoot at you. Elsewhere, they don’t have the decency to miss.”

“Are there any of them in Boston? I didn’t see any. Though I suppose I didn’t really look.”

“Yeah, but they never leave the Vault they occupied,” 13 answered. “Vault 124 or something like that. They been there, hiding, for like, years. When they went in, they told anyone who would listen that they were doing it to ‘save the last, pure humans’ or whatever bullshit they think. Delusional assholes. Shot a couple of our old guard dead when they fled to their ‘have.’ Ain’t fond of ’em.”

“Oh,” Hana said, quiet. “I’m sorry that happened. No one should lose people to the hatred of others, turned into a weapon.”

“Go back to teaching kindergarten,” he snapped. Then he sighed. Dogmeat beside them whined. “It’s been a long time. It’s a healed wound. I just don’t need platitudes quoted at me, as well intentioned as they are. Nothing should be the way it is, but it is. Let’s work from there.”

“I’m still just…” Hana trailed off. Then began speaking again when 13 looked at her in askance. “Getting use to this world, as it is. Only thing I’ve known was pre-War. The Institute was bad, and they would kill or erase or dismantle us if they felt the need. But there was good… or maybe that was naïveté as well. The world ended in fire and death. I was… programmed to believe in better days, better people. To build a better future.”

“And you get this shitpile instead,” 13 said, gesturing to the Wastes before them. He grinned then, sudden and grief. “What better way to build a better world than to start with it at it’s absolute worst?”

“That’s a good way to put it,” Hana said, returning the smile. “Thank you.”

“Let’s keep goin’, then. Ten caps says we can make it to Manhattan by dark.”


	24. Manhattan Reborn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They cared for the city they had, rebuilt it with what they could scavenge. It was all that was left.

They did, in fact, make it to Manhattan by dark. However, that just meant traversing broken buildings and concrete, feral ghouls sniffing suspiciously at her, all in the dark. As 13 had predicted, the ferals seemed to mostly leave her alone, save for a snarl or two directed at her. 13 had his arm threaded through hers in the more thickly populated places, like the subways crawling with ferals.

“Better this way,” he’d said gruffly. “Ferals can’t see good, so they go by smell. Smell like a ghoul, you’ll be good.”

“Alright,” Hana had said. “Thanks, then.”

13 had made a noise then, some kind of grunting “don’t worry about it” subvocal thing, accompanied by a shrug. Hana had gracefully let it go despite the fact she never understood the single note grunts that some people did in place of speech. Perhaps she was just programmed to not understand it. Either way, she didn’t let it necessarily bother her all that much.

It was slower going in the city, and by the time they reached the old Waldorf-Astoria, Dogmeat was panting and whining, 13 was muttering under his breath about naps, and even she was feeling tired, the solar energy gathered during the days walk ebbing under the moon. But according to 13, the Waldorf was where the real city started, the non-feral ghouls populating the neighborhoods just past it.

There weren’t any real walls marking the beginning of the city - she supposed the ferals were enough of a deterrent for raiders and looters - and so the change from non-city to city was slight. But the roads were cleaner and well taken care of, the ferals were nowhere in sight, and though the streets were mainly quiet, the tinkling of music from radios carried down from open windows along the sidewalk.

The hotel itself was kept as clean as it could be in the Wastes, and after 200 years of post-nuclear dust settling onto every little thing. The floors were free of the paper that seemed to stick to the floors of every building in the damn world, even, and the air was free of floating dust. The ceiling was still as high as Hana could recall it, even the chandelier that had been there still hanging and lit. It was possible that it was cobbled back together after everything was said and done, and Hana had to appreciate the effort that the ghouls had taken in preserving the city the best they could.

She had been here once, 200 years ago, with Nora. Before the baby, but after the wedding. It wasn’t really a honeymoon. A vacation. A getting away from Boston, a break from the area where the Institute existed. Though they hadn’t caught wind of her, not now that she’d left her job after her quick face-change, Boston back then had still felt worrying at times, even when she no longer remembered why she was worried. They had walked the streets of Manhattan and at night cocooned themselves in the luxurious bedding. Too expensive, Hana could remember thinking. But worth it.

The ghoul behind the counter, a woman in a pink sundress, looked surprised to see her there as they approached her.

“A smoothskin. You never see your kind here, they usually die on the way here.”

“Well, they ain’t smart enough to bring a ghoul,” 13 replied. “How much for a room, one with two beds?”

“That would be five-hundred caps a night.”

13 laughed. “No, seriously.”

The receptionist frowned in a delicate manner. “I assure you, I was quite serious.”

“That’s highway robbery!” 13 exclaimed. “Thought this was a hotel, not a goddamn pyramid scheme!”

Hana sighed quietly before putting on a distressed look and leaning forward. “Look, we’re mighty tired. My dog is limping -” Dogmeat whined pitifully for effect. “- And we nearly got killed by these Brotherhood of Steel assholes. You know how they get. Bigots. And look, I’m an android. They wanna pull me apart, right? Whole lotta bullshit, and my dog’s paws hurt. We just need a place to lie low and rest for a night or two, make sure they aren’t following us. Can’t you help?”

The receptionist looked moved, hesitated and looked around her, and then nodded. “Anything to help people running from them. Just don’t tell my boss, he’d have my head. Here’s a key to the second penthouse suite. It’s nothing we ever have full because of the price, so no one will even know you’re here.”

“Thank you so much,” Hana said earnestly. Dogmeat barked just as earnestly.

“Good night,” the receptionist said as she gestured to the elevator.

They all held it together until the elevator closed and began crawling upward, at which point Hana burst into laughter. 13 looked like he’d seen the light of God, face stretched into a huge grin. He started laughing, too, and punched her playfully in the arm as he said, “You liar! Holy shit, that deserved a motherfucking Oscar! You utter bullshitter!”

Hana had to wipe away tears forming at the corner of her eyes. “I don’t know what came over me! I just remembered you didn’t like the Brotherhood and spun a sob story! I’ve never lied like that in my entire life!”

13 clapped her on the shoulder. “Well you’re a goddamn natural, Hana. Lie more often. Fuck, that’s more entertainment I’ve had in the last fuckin’ year! She looked so sad! Your dog is a fuckin’ ace, too. Ho-ly shit.” He took a deep breath, leaning against the elevator wall. “Damn, what a ride.”

“You’re very welcome,” Hana said with a slight bow. She then scritched Dogmeat behind the ears. “And good improv on your part, too, boy. Nice theatricality.”

Dogmeat gave her a doggy grin.

The elevator dinged for their floor, then, and they all got off and opened their hotel room.

“Ho-ly shi-it,” 13 said, dragging the words out and accompanying them with a low whistle. “This is the best damn free hotel room I’ve ever been in. The fuck are the beds, though?”

“Multiple rooms in a penthouse suite,” Hana said, walking into the spacious and nicely decorated main room, throwing her bag down onto one of the plush couches. There was even a chandelier on the ceiling. Motherfucker. And unbroken windows. New York City might have been hit, before even Boston, in the war - but the ghouls of the city had clearly been putting it all back together for the last 200 years.

“You know how the city went down?” 13 asked, joining her by the window overlooking the broken and partially mended skyline.

“Yeah. I read the news. Heard it, too,” she answered. “Nuclear reactor overloaded and flooded the streets with radiation. 17 million people hit. Tons died. Lots of radiation sickness… Boston went down soon after, so I assume that those cases they were talking about were the first ghouls.”

“Yup,” 13 agreed. “Something like 5 million ghouls, and the ones towards the leak are almost without exception feral glowing ones. 12 million people dead, and the ones left that aren’t feral… like 2 million maybe, max. Lot less here now, and there isn’t a census or anything, but a lot of them ended up feral along the way.

“They say we’ll all go feral eventually. That’s why some don’t feel bad ’bout ‘putting us down’ or whatever the fuck they think. I’m 200 goddamn years old - 221 if you count my smoothskin days - and I ain’t never killed or hurt someone that didn’t deserve it. The ferals just got nothing to live for, or lost what mattered, or whatever. They died on the inside, s’why they’re nothin’ but animals. But I’m not a goddamn animal, and they should know better. I know why I’m livin’. I know why I’m here. I haven’t lost sight of the thing keeping me here. That’s gotta fuckin’ count.”

“They’re probably just scared,” Hana said softly.

“Of us?”

“Of becoming a ghoul.”

“Not so bad. Yeah, we look like shit, but we look damn good for radiation-resistant immortals.”

Hana gave him a small smile. “Don’t I know it.”

“Fuck yeah,” 13 said. “I’m gonna go make sweet love to one of those beds and sleep for a whole fuckin’ day. Shake me awake for food or somethin’.”

“Will do,” Hana replied. “I’m going to sleep, too. Need it. Dogmeat knows where it’s at.”

Dogmeat was already stretched out and snoozing on one of the couches.

“Aces. See ya,” 13 walked off, then, into one of the bedrooms.

Decided it was best to follow suit, Hana wandered into the other bedroom, stripped, and climbed into the giant, comfy bed.


	25. One Form, Reclaimed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was little else to do in downtime than remember the past, now bittersweet and painful. The little things stuck out more than the big: the dimples, the quirk, the crinkled eye.

The Waldorf beds had been spectacularly comfy. She had awoken feeling more rested than she had in months - since she woke up in the Crypt.

The receptionist, ever helpful, had sent them up food as well, with a server she described as “good at keeping quiet.”

The food was better than anything one could get on the road, and the wine even tasted like wine, not like spoiled vinegar. So it was in high spirits that they spent two days at the hotel, lounging, napping, and eating the food.

“I feel fancy as fuck,” 13 said over his half-full wine glass. “This shit is vintage. Haven’t had anything like it in 200 years.”

Hana laughed from where she was, lounging on a chaise, a glass also held in her hand. “I supposed the same is true of me.”

“Doesn’t count if you were napping the entire time,” 13 said with a harsh laugh.

“It was a cold nap, 13! Could’ve used some wine to warm me up.”

“Or a blanket.”

“Wine is tastier.”

Dogmeat let out a happy bark from where he was, chewing on a perfectly cooked Brahmin steak.

“Good food, Dogmeat?” Hana asked him.

Dogmeat barked again, grinning his doggy grin.

“Going on the road again is going to suck ass after this,” 13 said before downing his wine.

“It’s just so nice to be clean again,” Hana said with a sigh, running a hand through her grime-free hair.

She’s cut her hair again, with 13’s help. Had shaved the sides the ways she liked, kept the hair on top short to stay out of the way but longer than the rest.

Nora hd loved her hair long, short, whatever. Had just liked her jet black hair, tangled in her brown hands. Nora had just liked all parts of her, before and after she changed how she looked. A strong jaw, aquiline nose, high cheekbones, almond-shaped eyes. Dark eyes, nearly black.

Together, she and Nora had built her new face.

“The important part is you look different,” Nora had told her.

“Not too different,” Hana had replied. “I like the way I look now.”

Nora had smiled at her, in the way that made her eyes crinkle in the corner and her dimples show. “So do I. Then, enough only to make it so you don’t look like you at first glance. Change the nose, the jaw, the mouth? The eye shape, raise the cheekbones, tweak the brow angle…”

In the end they had given her a sharp, strong face. All hard jawline and cheekbone contour, skin just three shades darker, eyebrows no longer giving her a perpetually surprised look. Enough to fool any random glance, but true enough that it was still her.

“You look like the First People. Made of Earth and blood, not cold science,” Nora had told her. “You were before, but now it’s your own. You’ve taken your face for yourself.”

“Does a race matter when one is an android?” She had asked with a small smile. “I belong to no one. Not a single race on this planet can claim me.”

“You belong to the universe. To all people,” she had curled one of Hana’s locks of hair around her finger before adding quietly, “To me. And soon you won’t remember being an android. You’ll be as human as any of us.”

Nora had always been beautiful. Skin darker than Hana’s own, baked by Phillipine sun where she spent a good portion of her year with family, and where she had studied medicine and science. Before she had gotten the job at Vault-Tec, she’d spent the other part of her year with the other half of her extended family in Hawai’i, working their local free clinic.

She had given all that up for Vault-Tec. To help build that better future. And look where it had gotten her.


End file.
